


My Immortal

by charmed_seconds



Series: Song-Fic Series [10]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed_seconds/pseuds/charmed_seconds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" It’s been six months since he saw the fire take him away. He stood on the side as Gwen placed the torch on the pyre, everyone whispering their last goodbye to the fallen as his ashes soared up to Heaven."</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Immortal

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "My Immortal" by Evanescence.

          He haunted him.

            Plagued his thoughts.

            Tortured his soul.

            Tore his heart apart.

            Left him ragged every night as he appeared in his dreams. Close enough to see, to smell, to hear, but just too far to touch.

            It’s been six months since he saw the fire take him away. He stood on the side as Gwen placed the torch on the pyre, everyone whispering their last goodbye to the fallen as his ashes soared up to Heaven.

            He didn’t leave until the fire snuffed itself out and the chill of night was deep within his bones.

            When he returned to his chambers, it was as if time refused to move on. He could still hear his footsteps upon the stone floor. His snarky voice. His bright smile that would appear so often; but, it was when it reached the bright blue eyes….that was when he knew he would be bound to this man for eternity and beyond.

            He just didn’t think that this lifetime would be so short.

            Even now, in the dead of night, he found himself in his bed. The sheet pooled around his hips as he heaved in breaths; desperate to regain a normal heartbeat. His hand instinctually reached over; and, when he grasped nothing but a cold sheet, he felt his heart crack just a bit more.

            He wondered how many cracks it would take for it to break completely.

            Tears, a thing that would never mar his cheeks, were a constant thing now. His pillow would be damp every morning, his cheeks taut with salt. He sit in bed and just stare.

            He would just gaze at the door; hoping.

            Praying that it was nothing but a horrific nightmare.

            But, he never opened it and appeared.

            He was alone.

            He moved throughout the day as if he was a ghost. Spoke when spoken to. A shadow hidden in the dark; his sun forever hidden beneath the cold, dark moon.

            It’s been six months, he tells himself every night. He should know.  But when he looked around, he saw the discarded book that was tossed when the alarm bells rung. He saw the wayward sheets of paper on top of the fireplace mantle from when he pulled the other into bed, a seductive smile on his lips. He refused to open the wardrobe, knowing that if he did, he would lose all sense of reality.

            He would just sit on this bed, reminding himself that he was gone.

            That he was alone.

            And would be until he drew his final breath.

            He hated being alone.

            He wanted to return to his lover’s arms.

            But he feared death more.

            He would endure the pain of him being gone until God – or whatever – ended his life.

            Turning, he leaned over and softly blew the candle out, plunging the room in darkness. He settled down and stretched an arm out. Smooth, cold, cotton touched skin. A broken sob came from his lips. Just once more, he would love to feel smooth, warm flesh. Looking up, he licked his lips as he looked at the pillow. Turning, he buried his face into the fabric. Faintly, he could smell the sharp tang of smoke and forest that the other always carried upon him. He rolled back over onto his back as the tears sprang forward. He didn’t want to ruin what little had left.

            Stuffing his fist into his mouth, the great King Arthur muffled his cries as he wept for his late lover…

            For his friend.

            For his warlock.

            For his confidant.

            For his shoulder.

            For his heart.

            For his conscious.

            For his guide.

            For his soul.

            For his…Merlin.

                 __


End file.
